Not In My Job Description
by ADDyke
Summary: The team have been taking advantage for too long, so Ianto decides a little industrial action is in order... Jack/Ianto


Title: Not In My Job Description

Author: Cait (aka ADDyke)

Pairing: Jack/Ianto

Spoilers: Slight Season Two

DISCLAIMER: Torchwood, Dr Who and all their characters and associated creations do not belong to me – they belong to the BBC who rob me blind with the telly licence fee, and Russell T Davies, and his fantastic writing team and cast – which is why they live in nice posh flats and I live in a crappy med res room living on baked beans (thus I'm making no money from this).

* * *

The heavy cog door revolved back to reveal Ianto Jones, weighted down with about ten different packages, courtesy of the local dry cleaners. He struggled through the barred gates, wincing as a hanger caught him in the ribs. Thankfully his desk wasn't that far from the entrance. Piling the garments on his desk, he carefully sorted each item, hanging his own dry cleaning – four three-piece suits – from the metal work of the overhead walkway. With one last disgusted look at the invoice on his desk, he placed the other garment bags over the hook of his arm, and began his familiar round of the others' workstations. 

"One pure silk shirt…" Ianto said, hanging it from above Owen's computer "This really doesn't need to be dry-cleaned every single week, Owen!"

"Yes it does!" Owen called up from the autopsy bay "That's my lucky pulling shirt!"

"He needs all the luck he can get!" Gwen popped her head around her workstation "Hey, Ianto have you my stuff there?"

"One little black dress and one black tuxedo…" Ianto handed her two garment bags "Am I sorting out Rhys' dry cleaning now, too?"

"It's for a party - just this once!"

"I heard that the last time!"

"Cheers, Ianto!"

He made his way to Tosh's workstation, where she was so engrossed in her computer she barely acknowledged him.

"Just hang them on the side, Ianto…"

Ianto hung her two jackets on the back of an empty chair, and headed towards the stairs to Jack's office with the last item. He caught another look at the invoice on his desk – no-one had made any moves to actually _pay_ for their dry cleaning, as per usual and for once Ianto had had enough.

"OK, everyone – the dry cleaning bill this week was £120, which I had to pay for out of my own pocket…"

"Cardiff's getting expensive…" Jack said, emerging from his office.

"Ouch!" Owen shouted from the autopsy bay "It's those suits of yours, mate."

"Actually, no. My share of the bill was only forty pounds, which means you lot owe me eighty quid…"

There was a general chorus of 'I'll pay you back tomorrow'.

"What about the past four times you haven't paid for your dry cleaning? Or your tea subs?"

Ianto had also been paying for all the milk, tea and coffee that the team got through for a month now. Thankfully takeaways and petrol for the SUV always came out of the Torchwood expenses account; else he'd be paying for them too.

Ianto was now getting mad "Believe it or not, I am not the Torchwood petty cash fund!"

Jack stifled a laugh.

"Don't know what you're laughing at, Jack – do you know how much it costs to dry clean a 1940's RAF standard issue navy blue overcoat covered in alien guts?"

Jack looked suitably ashamed, as they all did but that wasn't going to appease Ianto.

"Until everyone coughs up what they owe me, I'm officially on work-to-rule." Ianto declared handing Jack his dry cleaning.

"Work-to-rule?" Jack asked, unfamiliar with the term.

"I'm not doing anything outside my official contracted Torchwood job description…" Ianto had a sneaky glint in his eye "And the last time I looked making coffee was not actually in my job description…"

Horror clouded Jack's face as he realised that Ianto was right. Despite the fact Ianto had been responsible for keeping the team in caffeine since the day he first started in Cardiff, it was never officially one of his duties.

"Now I have some archiving to do…" Ianto smiled – this was going to be interesting.

As Ianto disappeared down a tunnel, the rest of team looked at each other in shock.

"He doesn't really mean it, Jack – does he?" Gwen asked.

"Ianto Jones can be bloody stubborn when he wants to be…" Jack shook his head "Looks like we're making our own coffee…"

"We're lucky he's not on strike…" Tosh added – of course if Ianto did go on strike she would end up doing all the paperwork and filing.

Owen grabbed his coffee mug from the side of the autopsy bay "Better enjoy the rest of this then…"

He then realised that he had finished the rest of his coffee ten minutes ago.

"Can someone head to Starbucks, please?!"

* * *

Ianto Jones' work-to-rule began at ten o'clock in the morning – by one, everyone was starting to feel the effects.

It's not as if he was working, to the contrary, he was getting more of his own done than he usually would – he was in the middle of a major re-haul of the archives and it was nice to able to spend the morning making some real progress.

He had also made a dent in the paperwork backlog that he would normally do at night, when the rest of the team (apart from Jack, of course) had gone home. He even was able to enjoy his statuary twenty-minute break – after e-mailing everyone an invoice detailing exactly how much they owed him, he relaxed with a hot chocolate and a book he had found in archives.

He was doing his own work, but he wasn't making coffee and he wasn't doing everyone else's paperwork for them.

Caffeine withdrawals hit the rest of the team at about lunchtime, after the joint efforts of Gwen and Owen in a bid to fend for themselves had broken the espresso machine, and Jack had banned the constant trips to Starbucks because no-one was getting any work done.

Tosh was going slightly mad, shouting at her computers and Gwen got absent-minded and started craving a cigarette for the first time in years (in quitting smoking, she had taken up caffeine).

Owen was feeling the worst though and began hacking at the alien corpse on his table, instead of disserting it, cursing Ianto's name under his breath. He was even more pissed off when after butchering said alien, he had to type up his own autopsy dictation instead of leaving it for Ianto to do.

But it was Jack who found out the acute disadvantages of Ianto on work-to-rule…

* * *

Ianto was doing some filing in Jack's office when Jack approached from behind.

"You know, you are really sexy when you're mad…" Jack whispered in his ear, his hand wandering over Ianto's body, fiddling with his waistcoat buttons.

He was left bereft when Ianto pulled himself from his arms.

"Shagging the boss is not in my job description, sir." Ianto said with a mischievous grin, filing the last item away.

"What?" Jack asked in frustration – he had been waiting to get Ianto alone since that morning.

Ianto gave him a knowingly wink, and left the office heading back down to archives.

Jack stared at him in shock, watching as he disappeared down the tunnel.

This had to be sorted once and for all.

"I don't care if you have to beg, steal or borrow…" Jack announced to the rest of the team "… give Ianto the money you owe him by the end of the day!"

* * *

At five o'clock that afternoon, Ianto re-emerged from the archives to find four envelopes on his desk, each with the appropriate amount of money inside. There were also a large 'Sorry' card signed by everyone and a big box of chocolates.

He simply smiled and went over to the espresso machine, replaced the steaming wand that Gwen and Owen had broken earlier and brewed up a round of coffees. As he did his round of the workstations with his tray, the mugs were grabbed off by his grateful, caffeine withdrawn co-workers.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Owen cried, sipping his coffee like a victim of drought. "I'll never take advantage of you ever again!"

He would believe _that_ when he saw it.

Ianto had barely sat Jack's mug on his desk in his office when Jack had pinned him against the wall in a hungry kiss, practically ripping Ianto's jacket off in the process.

"I'm seriously going to have to go over your job description…" Jack panted.

"Is that right, sir?"

As Jack devoured him in further passionate kisses, impatient hands undoing his waistcoat, Ianto realised that in some situations, he was all for being taken advantage of.

The End.


End file.
